Coming Home

Chapter 6

Dusk had descended on the ship and the air was heavy with happiness. The moon smiled over the surface of the sea in its beautiful phosphorescence which lay on the latter, causing it to sparkle. The sea had lots of reflections on it, as people stood by the edge of the ship gazing at it.

The deck was totally filled up with all sorts of people in their finest wear — merchants, sailors, attenders, both black and white. Some were drinking behind their tables, others dancing to the soft melody hanging over the air.

At that moment, Derrick and Veil were in the limelight. The former was in a matching blue suit, while the latter was in a pretty, “beauty-modifying gown”, as Derrick would have it. An arm of Derrick braced Veil's waist, the other had their hands locked in, as they stared into each other's eyes.

It was like one of those beautiful moments children watched in fairy tales.

They'd both danced to the side of the ship where fewer were located.

Veil placed her head on his chest. She felt his muscular build and stole a glance at those blue eye-pair of his which was no less magnificent as the sea beneath them.

“I love you, Derrick,” she whispered.

“I love you more, my darling,” he replied heartily.

“And Derrick—”

“Yeah?”

“How did you think of such a wonderful surprise party this good?” she asked, pulling her head from his chest to face him directly.

“That. . . that was a little help I'd gotten from some of my new friends.” Derrick could not help but smile in embarrassment. He remembered the efforts put in by Wale, as the latter coordinated some female attendants from keeping Veil away from the deck after breakfast.

“I'd sure love to meet these friends of yours,” Veil said, with a sheepish laughter.

“Sure. I'd be glad to introduce you to them all. Especially Wale. I learnt he's one of your people.”

Through the little conversations Derrick had been having with Wale, he was able to learn a few things about the latter.

“He's Nigerian?” Veil eyes dilated in surprise.

Derrick nodded.

“You know, Veil, you could teach me to speak the Nigerian language, one of these days.” Derrick caressed her head as he spoke.

Suddenly, unlike what he'd expected, Veil began to laugh.

“Why are you laughing? I'm serious here. . . Oh, come on, would you cut it off?”

Veil wiped her face before explaining.

“The reason I'm laughing is because you said I should teach you the Nigerian language.”

“So. . . what's so funny about that?”

“You see, Derrick,” she began, “Nigerians have over a thousand languages, if my estimation is flawless.”

“Holy moley! Now that's a shocker!”

Veil chuckled once again.

“And the language your friend speaks — what's his name again? — is different from mine.”

“Wale?”

“Yeah. His name tells that he's a Yoruba person, which means he speaks the Yoruba language.”

Derrick nodded slowly.

“What about you? What language do you speak?” His interest had already been piqued.

“My native name is Ndifreke. Only the Calabar-speaking people of Nigeria bears this name,” she said, a tinge of pride in her voice.

“Wow, Calabar. Sounds nice!”

“Thanks,” she said, curtly.

“I'm sorry, but what's your Calabar name again?”

“Ndifreke. Please don't bite your tongue on that—”

“No, no, I must give it a try. In-di-fry-kay. . . wait, why're you laughing? Didn't I get it right?”

Amidst laughter, Veil replied, “It was a nice attempt, though. But it's better pronounced, In-di-fray-kei. Get it?”

“Got it — In-di-fray-kei,” Derrick said, trying to sound much impressive than his first effort.

“Awesome! You finally got my name right! Why not try pronouncing ‘Ndifreke’ more naturally? Apply less pressure to your tongue and let it flow.” Veil held his hands and swung them, slowly.

“Ndifreke!”

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, adding pressure to her grip on his hands. “You sure got it right this time.”

Derrick adjusted his necktie.

“That's the least you'll be seeing from me.”

They laughed at this joke together, simultaneously. They soon swung back into dancing arm-in-arm, all through to the dancefloor on the deck.

As they danced, Derrick's mind flashed back to that cool summer evening when his mother did him the “honours” of getting him the ring that now lay delicately on Veil's finger. He could remember clear as day, how he was seated in the living room, sipping from the mug of coffee his mother had made him when he arrived Manchester, all the way from his house in Liverpool. Opposite him sat his father, as they both discussed business life. Coming from putting the kitchen in order, his mother stepped into the conversation of the due, to put certain matters “in order”.

“Derrick, when would you get a grip and find a wife?”

Not waiting for him to respond, she continued right on.

“Look here, mister. You aren't getting any younger. I mean, you're 29, Son! Your Cousin Erickson already has a pregnant wife, for crying out loud! I'm ashamed!”

“But Mum—”

“No ‘buts’! I learnt you broke up with Emma — that poor, good heart! Now, since you're leaving for a business trip in Africa, you'd better be finding a native to marry!”

Before he could even interpret what that meant, she thrust an elegant ring parcel at him.

“Thank me later, you'd be needing that!”

“Honey!” Derrick's father interjected, he couldn't take it any longer. “He's not a kid any longer. You have to respect his choice of making his personal decisions—”

“Sure! Then he'd better be making some personal decisions soon!”

The woman rose to full height, from the couch, then walked away, towards the adjoined kitchen. She paused as though remembering something, before turning around to add, “And don't come back to visit this house without a maiden with that on her finger.”

Derrick shook those thoughts off his head as he smiled. Now was different, he told himself. Now I have Veil.

He knew that he'd beaten further embarrassments that his mother would cause him. He tightened his grip on the lass before him and smiled broadly. She stared and noticed the difference, but could only swallow her wonderment for herself.

* * *

The deck seemed to be very busy. Curiosity, it is said, kills! However, it was the potential way to discovering the ever beckoning cries of the unknown and unfathomable.

They needed someone who would go up to find out the reason for the celebration. Ratty and Max were definitely exceptional, as they could easily be recognised by one or two persons. Thus, it had to be from the others. Someone who was swift, discreet and cautious. Eventually, Nathaniel was that candidate. The whole game was certainly a daredevil one, but it was worth the risk.

Next step; what to disguise in. In the cabinet, Ratty and Max had some handy options — a black suit, a blue suit, two attendant uniforms, two sailor uniforms, two hoodies, and a pair of face caps.

‘Perfect!’

“But which should fit best on deck?” they wondered.

‘It should be the suits.’

“I'm going to try on the black suit,” said Nathaniel.

The others nodded.

“Yeah, like those guys in Will Smith's MIB — Men in Black,” Kofi remarked, causing the others to chuckle at this.

“I'm having a feeling that he'd be needing backup,” Kofi added, most seriously this time.

Ratty rolled his eyes.

“Or you just wanna check out Max's blue suit. . .”

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Kofi said, grinning widely as he spread both hands over his head. “But I really have to check that suit on. Besides, Natty here would need a backup in case things blow up in his face.”

“In case what blows up?” Jarius asked with an arched brow.

“Things. . . like, emm, the spy mission.” Kofi scratched the back of his head.

Ignoring the scornful eyes of Jarius as Kofi began tugging the suit on, Nathaniel asked, “Does anyone have a matching pair of shoes?”

Everyone looked in his direction. He was already fully dressed, fit to kill.

“Wow bro, you look cool! You could mesmerise three women at once, in one glance with this outlook,” Ratty said, with an inconspicuous smile smacked on his lips.

“Would it be accurate to say that I feel flattered?” Nathaniel asked.

“What-ev-er!” Ratty exclaimed. “It's all 'cause of my grandeur that the suit is that awesome. Come over here to the shoe rack to see if you can find something your size.”

Ignoring the first part of Ratty's words, Nathaniel tugged behind, to the shoe rack. He stopped down and picked a pair of polished, black shoes.

“These would do.”

He quickly slipped his legs in, while seated on the bed.

“How do I look?” Kofi's voice rang out.

Nathaniel's attention was immediately averted. He whistled as his gaze fell upon Kofi.

“Men. . . This is splendid!” Jarius said.

“Fits him better than it does Max,” Ratty said in nonchalance.

The latter tossed a pair of shoes to Kofi. Walking towards Nathaniel, he said, “Ooh, ooh, ooh, now something seems to be missing.”

Nathaniel raised his head up.

“And what's that?”

Ratty went to the cabinet and drew out a perfume box.

“Here,” he said, spraying it all over Nathaniel.

Nathaniel coughed.

“Thanks.”

The same custom went for Kofi.

After a moment, Jarius finally said with a bright smile, and spooky eyes, “The mission starts now.”